The Crooked Man
by E. M. Morning
Summary: Not everyone likes David Rossi. Some would rather watch him suffer rather than see him being happy, and to truly hit someone in the heart you must go after what they care for the most.
1. Chapter One

**I've never written for Criminal Minds before, but I love the show so I thought I would take a crack at it. I'm sure this idea or basic plot has been well over done, but oh well. I appologize. Side note: This takes place shortly after Emily's return.**

* * *

Waiting is the key to life. Waiting and watching. You cannot have one without the other. Those who cannot wait are not able to watch, at least not fully. I am very excellent at both, the waiting and the watching. Just about my whole life has been centered on it. I enjoy watching. Humans are fascinating creatures in all honesty, and I do mean creatures in every sense of the meaning here. Despite efforts to thrive, the human species has fallen well behind our animal brethren in a mess of hypocrisy and confusion.

Confused- that is the best way to describe the current state of humanity, or at least the vast majority of them; those who cannot wait. People are far too impatient to focus on anything other than themselves these days. Too busy stuck on their own lives to notice the flaws in the world around them and more importantly in themselves. It is up to those who are patient enough to see to show them the way. I have made it my mission to help those in such dire need, to guide those blinded by their faults. It is my life's purpose.

David Rossi has become my latest misguided sheep that I will lead. I found him a few years ago after sitting in on one of his lectures. He was intriguing, but I could not quite make up my mind about him. I submerged myself in his life; reading every book of his that I could get my hands on to, following him around campuses to hear him speak, spending hours upon hours researching him on the Internet. All in all I am not too impressed. For a man whose job it is to watch people he was very, very blind, especially when it comes to himself. His arrogance and sinful lifestyle out shines any potential in his ability. It will take extreme measures to bring him to light. But I have never been a man who shies away from the extreme.

I have decided to attend yet another one of his lectures. I know it will be boring; I have heard just about everything he has to say before. They are all the same really. He drones on and on about his career, all of the cases he solved. Like anyone cares. Occasionally he will bring a guest lecturer along, often being one of his co-workers. The girl with dark hair is rather bearable. Sometimes she will reply to David with a snippy remark. Lately he has been dragging around some young man, a genius of some sort. At one of earlier the lectures he made a comment about how many PHDs and various degrees he had. It was impressive, at least someone of his age. He looks no older than his twenties. He is quite the opposite of David. He is so quiet and mild mannered, but socially awkward to the point it is uncomfortable for everyone. It is obvious that it frustrates David. You can see it in his face; he gets so tired of his young companion's rambling.

But the two appear to get along well for the most part. I've heard David affectionately refer to him as kid when they are away from the stage and there is no need for formalities. Their relationship is interesting. I keep an eye on the doctor. He could be the tool I need to guide our David.

Today the doctor is with him again. I am pleased. At least it will be a little more interesting. David leads much of the discussion. The doctor adds in when queued, but stumbles over his words. It's cute in a way. So smart yet so dumb.

I sit patiently as David continues to ramble on about some case he worked several years ago. I have lost interest in him. I know everything about him. Nothing is entertaining anymore, just nauseating. My attention lingers on the doctor. I watch him carefully, studying his facial expressions. His discomfort with his situation is obvious, but when he looks at his partner he appears more relaxed. His eyes shine with something- admiration, perhaps. See what I mean about being so dumb? How anyone could admire a man as nauseous as David Rossi is beyond me. But the devil comes in many tempting forms.

A student in the crowd asks a question. David directs it to the doctor. The young man answers, but it is much too thoroughly and quickly for anyone to follow. He eventually trails off after catching a disapproving look from David. Poor thing. He looks so disappointed with himself; it seems he can never get the social thing quite right. I will make him worth something.

* * *

Rossi has never really enjoyed taking Reid along on lectures. At first it seemed like a great idea; the kid was much younger than him and would hopefully be someone more relatable for student audiences. That theory, however, did not last very long. Rossi knew that Reid was socially awkward, but was not entirely sure to what degree. It was apparent from the first try that Reid was not going to be able to make that connection as previously been hoped. He was too far ahead of the students; too far ahead of most people in general for that matter. He would stumble over his words once he realized he was losing his audience, and would only falter more as he noticed his own mistakes, sending him into one jumbled, rambling mess.

But he's a good kid, a great kid even. For the life of him Rossi can never understand how someone as mildly tempered as Reid ended up wanting to work for the FBI. He had no desire to play the role as hero or take any of the glory. He even rarely showed any hatred towards the most vicious of criminals they came across. Reid sticks to the facts and does what he does best; figuring things out. He does well when it comes to picking apart minds, but when it comes to talking to actual people it's a whole other story. As previously stated, he's a good kid; just a pain to drag around sometimes.

Reid fidgets with the strap on his bag as he waits for Rossi to finish chatting with a small group of people. He hates this part, more so than the actual talking. After the lecture people would always flock to Rossi, eager to ask questions and get his opinions on things. Reid would be left on his own, standing off to the side as he waited patiently for the time to leave. It was in these moments he would realize that aside from the very small corner of the world he had created for himself, he didn't really belong. Completely belonging to his group was a stretch itself. As much as he knew and understood about the world, it was just something he never really fitted into.

Reid sighs and looks longingly outside the windows. It's a nice day. He could wait outside instead of the auditorium. There would at least be more interesting things to look at. Just as he is about to walk towards the door, he is stopped by the sound of someone calling his name.

"Excuse me, Dr. Reid!"

Spencer pauses and turns towards the direction of the voice. He only recognizes the man as the professor, Mr. Lastine, who had requested that the two would stop by and do a lecture. They had been guests a little over a year back and apparently made a good impression, although Rossi could not remember the man's name. Reid had to remind him several times on the way there. They had spoken briefly before the lecture, but it was quick since Rossi hurried through it. It was strange; part way through the conversation he seemed to become agitated with Professor Lastine and he quickly excused Reid and himself for some private talk before the lecture.

"_What was that about?" Reid asked as he tried to keep up with Rossi's pace. He looked over his shoulder, back at the professor, who was left alone and looking confused._

"_The way he was looking at you," Rossi answered. "I could have hit him."_

"_At me?" Reid turned around to look at the man again. "I-I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary."_

"_You're oblivious, kid."_

"_Maybe you're just over profiling."_

"_Maybe."_

Reid rocks back and forth on his feet slightly as the professor hurries over to him. The man seems to be a little out of breath. "Dr. Reid," he repeats again. "I'm so glad I caught up with you. I was afraid you had already left."

"Oh. No," Reid replies, smiling. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Well." Professor lets out a burst of laughter. "Well, I was wondering if you would be interested in taking a look at something I have been working on. I would really like to hear your opinion. I mean, if you aren't too busy."

Reid looks over at Rossi. His co-worker is still busy chatting with one of the students. He would have more than enough time to look at whatever it was Lastine wanted. At least it would be something to do. "Sure," Reid replies. "I should be able to."

"Good! Good!" the professor exclaims. "My office is just this way. It will only take a moment."

Just as they are about to walk away Reid sees his co-worker walking towards them. His expression is cold and serious. Reid cannot tell who or what he is upset at. "We need to go," Rossi says.

"Did we get another case?"

"Yeah," Rossi says as he continues to walk. He lightly touches Reid's shoulder and pushes him along, but Reid stalls.

"Uh. Where are we going?"

"I don't know. Somewhere in New York or something."

"Oh. I guess we should get going." Reid looks at the professor and smiles apologetically. "I'm sorry. Maybe I can look at your work some other time?"

"Of course!" Lastine says quickly. "I don't want to get in the way of your jobs. It sounds pretty urgent. Exciting too."

"I wouldn't call it exciting," Rossi says.

"Yes. I- I mean exciting as in not the enjoyable kind, but-."

"It's ok. But we really should be going now. Thank you for having us."

"Yes! Of course! Thank you for coming! It was really interesting. The students seemed to learn a lot. Hopefully we can do this again sometime!"

"Sure," Rossi says with half interest. "Come on, kid. Let's get back before Hotch chews us out."

As they walk away Reid turns around to wave goodbye to the professor. Lastine waves back, but stands in his places. He remains there, stuck in his own thoughts, even after the two agents have left his sight.

"So, what's the new case?" Reid asks as they get into the car.

"There isn't one."

"But you said-."

"I didn't feel like staying. These things take too long."

Reid sits quietly for a moment as Rossi starts up the car. "You don't like him," he says rather than asks.

"Who?"

"Professor Lastine."

"Oh, him," Rossi says as they drive out of the parking lot. "I have nothing against him."

"Why didn't you want to talk him then?"

"Like I said, these things go too long. I've been to enough of these; you just get tired of it."

"Why do you do it then? If you're tired of talking?"

Rossi considers the question. He has been doing lectures for years; it's become part of his routine. "Don't get me wrong, I still enjoy it. But between this and work, it gets busy."

"You can take a break."

"Kid, you know we never take a break from this work. It just never ends."

Reid smiles slightly. "So, we really don't have to go back to work?"

"No. At least not yet. Knowing our luck another any minute now. How about we get food first? I'll treat."

* * *

It's late now, well past ten in the evening. I have been waiting inside the doctor's apartment for hours now, and he has yet to return home. It is not surprising. Many nights I had sat outside, watching for him, and he arrived even later than tonight. Still, the closet is getting cramped. It is filled with more books than clothes; not the most ideal place to hide.

As I wait I finger the clothing, taking in everything that I can to learn more about him. I debate about when I shall make my move when he returns. Should I attack as soon as he enters the room, or would waiting until he has fallen asleep to carry on? There is the possibility of him opening the closet himself and finding me. It would catch him by surprise. He won't be expect it at all. It was very horror movie like. That would be fun.

Suddenly, I hear a noise. The door to the apartment is opening. For half a moment I panic, but I quickly regain my composure. This is it; this is the moment I have been waiting for. Fate has been set in motion, and there isn't anything anyone can do to stop it.

* * *

**I'm sorry it's so short! The first chapters always come out shorter than I would like them to. Oh well. Thank you to those who read and/or review!**


	2. Chapter Two

It's easy to break a man. Just take away one thing and his world falls apart. Life is fragile like that. So fragile and pathetic. There is not much of a challenge to it, which is a shame. I like a good challenge.

The doctor, however, was not a challenge. He put up a pretty good fight, better than I had expected, but he still posed no challenge. I could not wait for him to find me; it was too risky. I listened carefully to hear if there was anyone else with him. There were no voices and only one set of footsteps; he was alone. I slowly made my way out of the closet, trying my best to keep the noises to a minimum. In my coat pockets I kept a gun and a tazer. The tazer was all that I really needed. The gun was more of a precaution.

I peeked out from the bedroom doorway. I could see the doctor in the living room. He sat on the couch, facing away from me. His head was down. I guessed that he was most likely reading. Slowly, I inched forward. My heart pumped furiously so much that the anxiety began to hurt. And there was the doctor lost in his book, completely oblivious to the world around him. Should I say something? I should I get his blood pumping as well?

No. This just needs to get over with. The plan is already taking longer than expected.

I was standing right behind him, yet he was still unaware of my presence. It's a wonder he ever was allowed to become an agent. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the tazer. My free hand crept forward, making its way to the doctor's mouth. It was this moment when the doctor caught on. He jerked around, but I was prepared for it. I slammed down my hand into his face, doing my best to cover his mouth and nose. The doctor fought back. He grabbed onto my arm and tried to pull himself free. His fingernails dug deep into my skin. It took me by surprise.

Let's just say I was not pleased. I yanked back the doctor's head as far as it could ago and jammed the tazer into his chest. All it took was one shot and he was out. The doctor slumped forward. I grabbed onto him, not holding him up rather than holding him quiet. Trying to balance out the deadweight took some time- he was taller than I had anticipated- but I managed.

The doctor was mine.

* * *

It was one of those rare days when the members of the Behavioral Analysis Unit were not loaded with an overbearing workload. For the most part it was quiet. Few conversations were passed around as everyone had busied themselves with playing catch up with paperwork. It was not until Hotch came out of his office and requested Reid's presence does the team take note of their youngest member's absence. "Have any of you heard from Reid?" Hotch asks. Reid had rarely been late to work before, certainly not more than five minutes at the most, but now they had reached well over an hour since the work day had begun. Although uncommon it's did not necessarily mean life threatening. Still, Hotch began to worry, and there was no relief when he saw his team members look around the area, appearing to be just as confused and as concerned as he was feeling.

"I don't know," Morgan says as he checks his phone. There were no texts or missed calls from Reid. "I'll call him. I'm sure it's nothing. He probably just stayed up late working on something and overslept."

"Are we sure that he even sleeps?" Rossi says.

The group waits patiently for Reid to answer the phone. The moment passes and all Morgan gets is Reid's voicemail. He shakes his head. "I'll try again."

They wait longer, and just when Morgan was about to give up again someone answers. "Hello?" the person on the other line asks. The voice does not sound like Reid's; it's too low and jagged sounding. For a second Morgan wonders if he had dialed the wrong number, but he was sure it was his friend's.

"Reid?" he says into the phone.

There is a short pause. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but the doctor is a little busy at the moment."

"Who is this?"

"I can have him call you back later if you so wish."

"Who is this?" Morgan demands. The rest of the team stands by quietly. The atmosphere of the room has quickly changes. The air becomes heavy with the static feeling of fear and anticipation. They wait on edge to see what comes next.

There is the faint sound of laugher on the other side. "I should be asking the same, but I don't care who you are. Would you mind doing me a favor, though? Could you put David Rossi on, please? I trust that he is somewhere nearby. Unless he has taken the day off for whatever reason he came up with."

Morgan turns towards Rossi. He considers saying more to the man on the phone, but knows that nothing would be helpful. Instead, he extends his arm forward to offer the senior profiler the phone. "He wants to talk to you."

Rossi is slightly taken aback. Why would they want to talk to him? He takes the phone from Morgan and prepares himself for whatever lies ahead. "This is David Rossi."

"David! Finally I get a chance to speak with you. How are you?"

Rossi frowns slightly. He is confused by the man's tone. On surface level it sounds cheery, but there is a slight edge to it. "Fine. Have you been wanting to speak to me for long?"

"Awhile. I can barely get more than a few words out of you when I have the oppurtinity. You are not the greatest of listeners."

"I apologize. Have we met before?"

"On several occasion," the man says. "I'm rather offended that you don't remember. Not that I'm surprised or anything."

"Can I ask who I am speaking to? How did you get a hold of my colleague's phone."

"The doctors? Oh, it's a long story. It was the only way I could get your attention. And it wasn't even you who called! You are terribly difficult to get a hold of. Do you know that?"

"I'm sorry," Rossi says again. Whoever this person is, he is starting to frustrate the agent. The conversation is going nowhere, so Rossi pushes forward. "Where is Reid?"

"Sleeping, or at least something like that, but he is unconscious at the moment so I cannot imagine that he would be any use for you."

Hotch had heard enough. He rushes out the room without saying a word to the others. He needs to talk to Garcia; she can track the phone. They will have to act quickly, especially if there is there is a chance that Reid is in any sort of danger.

Rossi pauses. "Is he sleeping at his apartment? Is that where you are?"

"David," the man says with a chuckle, "do you honestly believe that I would be so foolish? No. We are long gone. We had ourselves a little sleepover. Well, there wasn't much sleeping, and there won't be any later as well. I got some things in mind. I'm sure you would love to hear about it, but I should get going. Maybe we can talk again later. Sounds good?"

"Where is Spencer? Is he okay?"

"You're a profiler, David. You can figure it out. But you will be hearing from me again. We have much to talk about."

The line goes dead.

* * *

The team split up into two groups. The first, consisting of Morgan and Emily, went off to Reid's apartment. Garcia had managed to track down the area Reid's phone was last active, which turned out to be a park nearly half an hour away from the apartment. That is where Rossi, Hotch, and JJ have gone to search. There is no sign of Reid, to no one's surprise.

"What do you think he meant by sleeping?" JJ asks. "Reid would never sleep outside. I don't know if he even goes outside unless it's for work."

"He must have been held somewhere else," Hotch says.

"Or he could still be at his apartment, and could have just had his phone stolen," JJ says. Her tone is hopeful, but even to her own ears she knows it is nothing but a false hope. " Have you heard from Morgan or Emily yet?"

"No. Not yet."

"Besides," Rossi says, "that was over half an hour ago. A lot can happen in that time. It's doubtful that Reid is still in the area, if he ever was."

"Maybe I should try calling him," JJ says as she pulls out her phone. "It's a long shot, but he might be in the area."

The three agents wait in silence, straining to pick up any possible clues. Two seconds after JJ pressed dial a faint electronic chime rings out in the distant. The agents' snapped into attention. They look around to find the source. Hotch is the first to spot it. Several feet away he sees a homeless man lying underneath a bench. The man was awaken by the sudden noise, and is blindly scrambling to find the device to quiet it. Without saying a word, Hotch hurries off into that direction with JJ and Rossi not too far behind him.

"FBI," Hotch barks. "Put that phone down."

The homeless man, unaware of the agents' presence, jumps at the rough voice. He lets the phone lie on the ground, and covers the back of his head with his hands. There are words coming from his mouth in jumbled, incoherent mess, but Hotch pays no attention. The lead agent pulls out a pair of rubber gloves out of his pocket and quickly puts them on before touching Reid's phone. "Where did you get this?" he demanded.

"It's mine!"

"No. This phone belongs to one of my agents. How did you get a hold of this?"

"I-I… It was given to me," the scraggly man manages to get out. He moves his hands away from his head so that he can get a better look at Hotch. Clearly this supposed FBI agent is not one to be messed with, not that he would try. Just answer the questions, he tells himself.

"By who?"

"Some guy. Said he didn't need it, so I could have it."

"When was this?"

"I don't know! Does it look like I have a watch?"

The agents exchange looks of frustration and worry. Just as they thought, whoever had called earlier was gone. "What did this guy look like?" Rossi asks.

"I dunno. I can't remember."

"You can't remember? It wasn't that long ago? What about skin or hair colour? Height? Age?"

The man looks up at them. One eye is nearly squinted shut to help focus on his thoughts. "White," he says. "Older. Brown hair, or maybe it was black. I can't remember. Barely got a look at him."

"Did he have anyone with him?" JJ asks.

"No. He was all on his own. Just came up and handed me the phone- said I could use it more than him. I wasn't going to do nothing with it! Just try to call up my wife or something."

"What all did he say to you?" Hotch asks.

"Not much. Like I said, he just told me I looked like I could use the phone more than him, and then he gave it to me. Never said a name or nothin'. He just left after that."

"Had you seen him before?"

"Never in my life had I seen that man. Just gave me a phone and left. I thought he was just trying to do a good deed, but figures it was stolen. Can't trust people, you know."

Hotch represses a sigh. "Stay in the area," he says to the homeless man before turning away. "There will be someone coming by soon to formally interview you."

"Sure. Ain't like I got nowhere else to go."

They left the man then. Any hope they previously had was shrunken down. "So he was here," Rossi says referring to the unknown caller. "We got a witness, but he doesn't remember anything. Hopefully someone else can get more out of him."

"I can try," JJ offers. "At least he did see someone."

"But not Reid," Hotch cuts in.

"True, but we do have the phone. We can see if we can lift any prints."

"It's a start," Rossi says. "But now that we have the phone, how does he plan on getting in contact with us?"

"He might have taken your number from Reid's phone."

"But why didn't he call me if he already had my number?" Rossi asks. The question is mostly directed to himself. It would not be the first time some crazed person has gone out of his way to reach him, but as direct as this man wanted to be he seemed to have a roundabout way of doing so.

"I don't know, but keep watch on your phone," Hotch says. "I already have Garcia ready to get any incoming calls. Let's go to the apartment to see if the others have found anything."

* * *

I settle myself down onto the mattress on the floor next to the doctor. He is awake now, but unable to move or speak. While he was out I took the liberty of doing up his wrists behind his back with zip ties, and with a nylon corn I bound his ankles together and knotted it up around the zip ties. I bound his mouth with duct tape, winding it round and round his face. It would keep him quiet; there was no way he could manage to get it off with his own doing.

In my hands is a silver DVD disk. I reach for a black Sharpie marker lying on the floor. "I talked to your dear friends," I say to him. "They are probably looking for you by now, or for your sake I hope so. It won't do them much good though." I uncap the marker and bring it up to the disks surface.

"In the mean time we can make them another video. I am nearly finished with this one. I just have to write something and post it. They should be viewing it sometime in the near future. Boy I wish I could be there for that!"

I look down at the doctor with a smile. He is just staring at me with his eyes large and wet with fear. It's annoying. I could punch him in the face. Maybe I will later- for the next video. "I'm sure they will find it interesting," I say. "It may be a little awkward for you, but terribly entertaining for me. Would you like to make another one? You had fun the first time around, right?" I look to the doctor again for any sort of response. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I sigh. "You are quite boring, doctor. But I can easily fix that."

* * *

**Okay, so I know that it is not much longer, but I tried! I did! This was just the spot to leave it off. I do apologize for how long it took me to update. I had previously planned on making it a week earlier, but it's summer. I get too easily distracted. I will try not to do it again though! I would also like to apologize for my writing. It is a little bit rusty at the moment, and I am still in the process of getting back into the swing of things.**

**Thank you to all of those who read and review the last chapter! I was not expecting much of a response, so it was nice to see that people actually enjoyed it and wanted to see more! I will try to make the next update sooner rather than later. Again, I am so sorry!**


	3. Chapter Three

The search at Reid's apartment turned out very few clues. Derek and Emily had entered the apartment unsure of what they would find, but were prepared for the worst. The door was left unlock, the first sign of Reid being home, at least at one time, but after a quick run through he was nowhere to be found. The apartment was empty and for the most part well kept. There were little splashes of Reid's personality scattered throughout the rooms, but for the most part the decorations were uninspired. The furniture was lazy and mix matched like a college student caught in a transition. It was not surprising considering the lack of time Reid tended to spend in his home.

One of the first things Emily noticed was a book. She recognized it from the jet ride home not even twenty four hours ago. It was one of the few Reid had set out in front him in preparation to read before he fell asleep in his seat. Now it sits on a wooden coffee table, neatly centered and closed.

"He must have finished it."

With a gloved hand Emily picked up the book and leafed through the pages. There were no markings or signs that it had ever been read. Then again, Reid never seemed to need a bookmark. "Does any of this seem odd to you?"

"What? That it seems too perfect?" Derek roams around the living room, looking for anything that appeared to be out of place. "Not too messy, but not too clean either."

"This book," Emily says as she places back onto the coffee table. "There's something weird about. I know Spencer loves his books, but there's something to straight and fixed about this. All of his other stuff-." Emily motions to a pair of black Converse shoes that had been carelessly tossed aside near the door and the messenger bag leaning against the couch. "This seems more like Reid. Like he was too distracted to take the time to even care."

Derek nodded. "And the keys on the kitchen counter. Those would go with it."

"So why would he take the time to place that one book just right?"

"Do you think it was him?"

Emily sighs. "I don't know," she says truthfully. "We can send it in for prints and see what comes up. He could have put it back and gone to bed after."

"But the bed was still made. Unless you think the unsub cleaned up after that too." Derek cringed at the use of unsub. It's a daily part of his vocabulary, but when used intermixed with his friend it seemed foreign and more impersonal. "But that would take too much work, especially when moving a grown man to a different location. These walls look paper thin. There has to be someone who heard or saw something."

"There could be more than one person," Emily offers. "One to subdue him and the other to clean up? I can't even tell which room he was attacked in. Maybe he went quietly."

"I don't think so," Derek says, or at least that is what he hoped. "He would have left something for us."

Maybe it was here, he thought. Maybe Reid had left them some sort of clue to find, one last desperate attempt to give the team something to find. Reid would know they would be looking for him.

Just as Emily opened her mouth to reply, both agents' cell phones went off. They pulled them out quickly with the desperate hope for good news. It was a text message from Hotch, requesting for them to return to headquarters as soon as possible. It was short and direct, and despite that both could feel the urgency.

"Looks like we better go."

* * *

I knew that David Rossi and his fellow profilers were going to be interested in the little video the doctor and I created for them, or in the very least it would catch their attention. It was a wonderful plan, nearly genius in fact, with the only downside being that I would not be there to witness their reactions. It's a shame when an artist is now allowed to be there with his audience, but there are many things in life that are not fair.

What they would soon watch will horrify them. That was the goal, of course; to send them into a frenzy of terror and anger. Those are two of the strongest emotions felt by humans that can be traced back to our more animalistic roots. They are fascinating to watch and even more so to enjoy.

I set up in the room in which I was keeping the doctor. It was small in size and no amount of natural light was allowed in. I had cloaked the walls in heavy, black cloths, covering all windows and doors to hide any sort of clues to our location. It would not have been wise to leave anything identifiable to a group of profilers. The room is filled with only artificial light, just enough to provide minimal sight. The furniture lacked in detail just as much the walls. I kept at an old plaid armchair that I had inherited from my uncle that I would sit in when I needed a place to rest while I watched over the doctor. I kept him tied up on a mattress, my very own, which I graciously donated, that was laid out in the center of the room. I set my tripod and camera up besides it, far enough to get a full length shot but still close enough to catch those details that I knew would break his friends' hearts. There were others rooms, but I was the only one allowed to enter those. The doctor had to stay where he was, bound and silenced with tape. I did not trust him enough to allow him to go anywhere else, let alone speak. I wasn't about to let him help his friends by giving away any secrets. They will have to figure that out on their own.

I whistled as I set up the camera. I could feel the doctor's eyes on me the whole time. They always were, I knew it. He was always watching with that curious look; always studying and trying to understand. He could try, but it was unlikely that he ever would, at least not fully. Even if he did it would do him no good.

"Are you ready to have some fun?" I asked. I tried to keep my tone as casual as possible, but it was proving to be difficult to hide my excitement. "We're going to make something special for your friend, David. And your other friends, of course." I looked at the doctor and smiled. "They're all going to see it, so you'll want to put on a good show."

I pressed the record button and walked around the camera, towards the mattress. My face was well hidden behind a black ski mask so that only my eyes and mouth could be viewed. It was irritating, but necessity that I would have to put up with. In my hand I held a knife that I made sure was present to our audience. The doctor shifted besides me, trying his best to create a little more distance between us. I smiled at him again. The poor thing didn't stand a chance.

"Good morning, David," I said to the camera. "Or evening- it depends on what time you finally found this. I hope you aren't feeling tired yet, because our game is just beginning, and it's about to get even more fun." I slapped my hand down on the doctor's chest. I grind my wrist into his body, harshly rubbing it against his white dress shirt. "As you have figured out by now, I have your young friend here and I'm sure you desperately want him back now. At least I hope so, but maybe not. I've seen the way you've looked at him before, so frustrated with his incompetence. How embarrassed you are to have to drag around such an awkward, strange young man. He seems hardly even human at times, am I right? So strange that he can't be."

I glanced down at the doctor to see if he was listening. Something in his eyes had changed. The curiosity was gone and replaced with something much sadder. It appeared I had struck a nerve. I leaned over and kissed his forehead for comfort.

"So maybe you won't miss him. I'm sure you can easily replace him. There are more than one geniuses floating around after all. But as of now, he's mine and I'm going to prove that to you. Tell me, David," I said as I moved myself into a new position. I set myself above the doctor, my knees resting on either side of him. I moved my knife close to his chest. Panic took over the doctor's features. His eyes trailed the blade, following it as it went down, slicing off the buttons of his shirt in little pops. "Are you really as smart as you think you are? Do you think you will be able to find your dear, strange little friend before I can harm him?"

I pause to open up his shirt. I let the blade rest upon his exposed skin, not quite pressing down hard enough to create a mark. "Well, you're going to be too late for that, as you're about to witness. You won't be able to save him from everything."

I pressed the blade down then. A thick stream of blood began to bubble up around the edges. I can hear the doctor say something behind the tape. There are already tears in his eyes. I scowled at him. Tears were upsetting to me, completely boring. I drove the knife deeper into his skin, moving it further down his body. More blood surfaced along with my anger. I could not stand the tears- not yet. Weakness can be so disgusting. I raised my free into a fist and sent it straight to the center of the doctor's face. His nose broke with a satisfying crunch. There, now he had something to cry about.

"I can see why you have such trouble keeping patience with him, David. He is insufferable. I could knock in every one of his teeth into that pretty face of his but…" I unclenched my fist and moved my hand down towards the doctor's pants. They were easy to remove, even with him struggling. "I have other plans. Better plans! I'm going to let you know what I will be doing your freak while I wait for you to find me so we can have our talk. You know," I say as I effortlessly flip the doctor onto his stomach. He tried to look away from the camera, but I wouldn't let him. I wanted them to see his face, to watch every painful emotion to cross it. "I had tried it before, talking to you, and on several occasions. I was never quite able to catch your attention. You're always so busy, so important to actually listen to anyone. But I'm sure I've gotten your attention now."

I lowered my own pants and leaned down on the doctor so that my face was nearly next to his. "You're going to remember this," I hissed. "I'm going to make sure you remember every fucking second of this for the rest of your pathetic life." I bit down on his earlobe hard enough to make him yelp. He was not prepared for what was coming next.

"I hope you're watching, David Rossi," I said loudly. "I'm going to fuck your friend. Every moment you aren't here I'm going to fuck your friend until he bleeds to death. Are you ready for some fun, kiddo?"

* * *

Emily and Derek found the rest of their team waiting in conference room. The room is quiet when they enter, and a thick sense of urgency fills the air above them. Penelope paces back and forth in front of the screen. In one hand she holds a remote and in the other a white paper CD case. "Good! You're here!" she exclaims. Her words come out in a squeak like a panicked mouse. "Okay, I'm just going to fill you guys in quick so we can get this over with and I can get back to work. Someone dropped this." She holds the CD case up and hands it off to Hotch. "At the headquarters today. No one is sure who; it just got mixed in with the mail or something."

"Is there anything written on it?" Emily asks.

"It says it's for Rossi," Penelope says sadly. "That's it. I guess he is supposed to watch it, or hear it. I don't know, but I do know that I don't want to be here to see it."

"Garcia, we're going to need you to look at this," Hotch says.

"You know I can't do that! This is already hard enough!" Penelope stops herself. "Sorry. I- I don't want to see any of my babies get hurt. I'll do everything else you need me to, but I just can't see Reid like that again."

"He's going to be fine," Hotch says. He tries his best to soften his tone, though he is quickly growing weary of arguing. "We're going to find him. We just need all the help we can get to do it as soon as possible."

"I know," Penelope says quietly. "I'm sorry, but I just can't do this."

Hotch looks around at the rest of his team and wonders if any of them could as well. "It's okay. Go back to your office. I'll call you when we need you."

"Thank you." Garcia tries her best to smile, but fails to hold it long. She rushes out of the room before she let it completely fall apart in front of her friends.

"So we have no idea who sent this CD," Derek says rather than asks. "Or what's even on it."

"No, but considering the circumstances I think it's safe to assume it's our next message."

Rossi nearly corrects Hotch's mistake. It was his next message, not the rest of the team's. It was made for him, just as the call was. If it wasn't for him none of this would be happening.

Hotch opens the disk drive and places the CD inside. He chooses to stand while the screen loads. The thought of having to sit through it unnerved him. The rest of the team felt just as impatient as the waited for the video to load.

"_Good morning, David. Or evening- it depends on what time you finally found this. I hope you aren't feeling tired yet, because our game is just beginning, and it's about to get even more fun."_

Right away they began to look for something that could give them any sort of lead. The room was dark, covered with thick curtains. There were no windows or any signs of land marks. The man had also made sure that his face was hidden, but he left Reid out in the open. He had been bound and gagged with a duct tape.

Rossi tries his best to focus mainly on the man's voice. On the phone he said they had spoken before. Maybe he would remember it by chance, but it was just about as indistinguishable as the room. Rossi tries to ignore Spencer's nose being broken. He attempts to set aside his personal feelings, all of the anger and hatred raging inside of him, as the unknown man continues to assault his young colleague like it was any other case he worked on. Rossi focuses on the speech patterns and tone of the voice rather than all of the horrible, filthy names- _You stupid cunt! You useless whore! -_ that are being screamed at Reid. But nothing seemed identifiable to him. All that he knew that there was a very angry man sexually assaulting his young friend, continues beating him on the back of the head and throwing insults at him, and there was nothing he could do about it.

* * *

**And scene! Every time I promise to make my updates sooner, longer, and better I completely fail. Again, I apologize. But it also nearly two in the morning, and I feel like this is a good stopping point as of now. Thank you to those who keep on reading and reviewing! I know I say this every time, but it does mean a lot and is very helpful in motivating. Oh, I would also like to apologize for some disturbing content. I do have it rated M and I feel like I kept it a less graphic than it could have been, but for those who are upset I'm sorry. **


	4. Chapter Four

It's not often that the team finds themselves feeling in over their heads. Stressed, yes, but that comes with the job with just about every case they take on. But these particular ones, the cases that hit far too close to home, prove more difficult to keep reason in mind especially when vengeance is right on its heels.

As it is with every case time was working against them. Before the video ended their masked unsub got off Reid, who had been beaten into unconsciousness, and went right up to the camera. He grinned, at his audience, his eyes gleaming with malice. Then he delivered a message directed to Rossi.

"_I'll give you twenty four hours- starting at five this evening- to find us. One second after, he's dead. Don't doubt me, David. As you can see I have no issues with bashing that pretty face in. Twenty four hours, and you lose."_

That was the end of it. There were no more information on Reid and his condition. The last visual the team had of him was Reid lying on the bed, his arms still bound behind in his back and blood smeared across his fast, most of it coming from the broken nose.

Broken, but alive. Broken can be fixed. They could still get Reid back and repair all of the damage that had been inflicted upon him. Rossi would see to it. He would make sure that Reid would get the best medical help- for both his physical and mental health- even if it is rejected. He would protect the young agent to make sure that no evil would come so close to him again. If someone must die in the next twenty four hours, Rossi will make sure that it will be the twisted masked man.

Hotch only allowed a few seconds to go by after the ending of the video before diving back into the case.

"What do we know from the video?" he asks.

"Well, the guy clearly has something against Rossi," Emily says. "So he's the main target. Reid is only a pawn to his ultimate goal."

"But why Reid?"

"It could be that he was the easiest target."

"By the way he was talking it sounded like he had met both of them before," Derek adds. "Like he had seen them interacting. It was most likely a lecture or even a case if he has been following close enough."

"Dave, did you recognize the voice at all?" Hotch asks.

Rossi shakes his head. He did not. For the life of him he could not place a name or even a face to that voice. He has heard many different voices; it's impossible to remember all of them.

"Did anything about him seem familiar?"

"No. It was hard to tell. I-," Rossi trails off. He is better than this. He has been doing this for years, longer than Reid has been alive. He should be able to get more out of this.

"What about the last lecture you went to?" Hotch asks. On the surface his tone is calm, but there is an edge of urgency to it. Any time that they are not progress is time wasted. "Was there anyone there you noticed to be out of the ordinary?"

Rossi tries to bring himself back to that place. It wasn't long ago; maybe couple days or so. It was at a college a little under an hour away. He had spent the drive there trying to give Reid a pep talk that had ended up being a failure. Reid was not the best public speaker, a fact that he knew and got the better of his nerves. The lecture itself was uneventful. The crowd size was average and the topic was the usual. Rossi covered all the grounds, answered questions, and got a few laughs. Reid was the expected awkward mess, which annoyed Rossi at the time and smiled at later on that night. Afterwards Rossi answered more questions while Reid stood in the background.

Then Rossi remembered. The professor: he had talked to Reid afterwards. He even tried to beforehand, but Rossi rushed them along. There was something about him that Rossi didn't like, although he wasn't sure why at the time. Maybe this was it.

"The professor!" Rossi exclaims. "Lavine or Lastine or something like that. He kept trying to talk to Reid."

"About what?" JJ asks.

"I'm not sure. I only caught the end of their conversation. It was about something he was working on, I think. But I didn't like the guy. He was looking at Reid strangely."

"What do you mean by strange?" Derek asks.

Rossi pauses for a moment so he can find the best words. "You know how when you go to a bar and you see the lonely old guy well past his prime watching some kid? It was like that. He looked like he was more interested in Reid for reasons other than what he had to say."

"But would that be enough to make Reid a target?" Hotch asks.

"He did rape him."

" Rape is most often about power," Hotch cuts in. "And in this case it seems the power is over both you and Reid."

Rossi scowls. "I know. But I'm telling you the guy was weird. It's a start."

Hotch nods. "Give Garcia all of the details you can remember so she can try to dig up something we can use. J.J. will come with back to Reid's apartment for another look through. Emily and Morgan, I want you to go to the college and see if you can talk to the professor."

"Where am I supposed to go?" Rossi says. "You can't expect me to stay here."

"Dave," Hotch says, "You know we can't risk having you with us. Not when it's this personal."

"And it's not personal for you guys? I'm the one he wants to talk to. Let-."

"That is why we can't have you with us. We need you to stay here and help Garcia and to wait for him to call again."

"But don't you think he's watching?" Rossi asks. "He wants me to find Reid. Me! I'm the reason he has Reid and I'll be damned if I'm not the person to stop it!"

Hotch waits for the moment to cool. "Talk to Garcia first," he says. "Then you can meet us at the apartment."

"I can go with Emily and Derek. I already know Lastine. I can-."

"I don't think you're in the best mind to handle that. I believe you know that too."

Rossi grinds his teeth. He knows that he's been defeated, but Hotch is right. He can't start losing his game now; not when time is running out. "Fine," he says with a sigh. "But don't think I'm backing down from this."

Before Hotch can reply the door opens. In walks Strauss, her face grim and set in determination.

"Or not," Emily says quietly.

* * *

It's starting to get late now, and with every tick of the clock I become even more bored. I am not the best when I am bored, not to the people around me. By half past six that evening I still did not have any visitors. Disappointing. I busied myself in the kitchen in the kitchen, preparing dinner, while I still had the time slot open. To be honest I am not much of a cook. My meals usually consist of something that can be popped into the microwave and are ready to go within a five minute time slot. Tonight's selection is some type of soggy noodles covered in white sauce. Good enough.

As I watch the green numbers countdown on the microwave I remember the doctor. The last time I checked in on him was an hour ago. He was still passed out then, or at least pretending to be. It has already been nearly a day since I first took him into captivity and now we have less than twenty four hours together. There was something about the idea of it that made me feel a bit sad. But, I remind myself as the timer of microwave begins to beep, there is still plenty of time to have some more fun. A lot can happen in a day.

I take my flimsy plastic dish into the bedroom where I am keeping the doctor. He is awake now, once again watching me. I roll my eyes. "Good evening, Doctor," I say as I walk towards my easy chair. I sit down and poke at the limp noodles with my fork. "You were asleep for quite awhile. I wasn't sure if you were ever going to wake up or not. That would have been a shame. I can't have you dead just yet! Are you hungry?"

I watch for his reaction. I get nothing. Not even a blink. I shrug. "Suit yourself. So, it looks like your friends won't be showing up any time soon. I suppose they could already be in another state by now, working on another case. That would be unfortunate. They must be doing fine without you, which isn't all that surprising. Don't get me wrong, kiddo, you're smart but you're just a disaster to take anywhere. Well, at least that's what I've gathered from all lectures I've seen." I take a bite of noodles. It's as tasteless as it looks.

"You know," I say thoughtfully, "they tote you around like some bizarre commodity. Like some exotic freak they used to show around in those old sideshows, you know, before those became politically incorrect. The human computer; watch it solve problems at amazing speeds, but break down when it comes to natural human interaction! I'm sure they get a kick out of it. I know I do. But look on the bright side! You have some type of purpose, even if it's being the team's freak!"

Emotion stirs in the doctor's eyes, but he gives away nothing direct. This would be much more enjoyable if he could talk back, I say to myself. Perhaps it's safe enough to remove the tape, at least for a little while. If anything I can just punch his face again if I need to shut him up.

"I'll tell you what. If you promise to be a good boy and stay quiet I'll take that nasty tape away. How does that sound?"

He blinks. Good enough.

I return to the kitchen to find a pair of scissors. Cutting it off will be the best option. The doctor flinches when the blades come close to his face. "Don't worry," I comfort him. "I'm only trying to help you."

It took some effort, but I managed to cut through the multiple layers of tape without cutting the doctor's skin. Peeling the rest off, however, proves to be the more difficult part. I yank hard so it will take less movement. He whimpers in pain, and almost begins crying as it rips out some hair on the back of his head. Baby. I make sure to knock into his nose as I made it to the end.

"There!" I say with a triumphant smile. "That feels better, doesn't it? Right?"

The doctor stares at me, unsure if he is supposed to answer. I widen my smile to encourage him. Yes, you may speak.

"C-Could you possib-bly cut these ties?" he asks, referring to the zip ties that bind his wrists. "I can't feel my arms."

"Only if you want me to break them."

He looks hopeless, and it makes me happy. "I can get you water," I offer. "If you're thirsty."

"How will I be able to drink it without hands?"

I force a smile. "You're smart. I'm sure you can figure it out. If anything, I'll help you." I rise to my feet and walks towards the kitchen. "I trust that you are not foolish enough to yell for help. I'll just drown you before any arrives."

Once I return with a glass in hand, I set it on the floor next to the mattress. The doctor looks at me, confused. I smile again and reach towards him. He flinches, but I tell him I mean no harm. Slowly, I help lean him up to a sitting position. I can see him gritting his teeth, trying to fight back the pain. He shakes his head slightly to fight off a sudden spell of dizziness. I reach for the glass again and hold it up to his lips. He hesitates a moment, but decides it is safe, which it is. Poison is not my favorite choice of death.

The doctor thanks me for the water, though it was clear he is not pleased with me. I smile politely and ask if he would like more. He shakes his head. No, he would not.

"So," I say as I move myself into a more comfortable position. "Tell me, doctor, how are you feeling?"

"Fine."

I chuckle. "Yes. You sure do look like you're feeling fine. Maybe you're a little tougher than I thought, kiddo."

"Are they okay?"

"Of course they are! Maybe worried, but maybe not. But if you're asking if I hurt any of them, then no. I wouldn't want to interfere with the game. I want to keep this as fair is as possible. Fair is fun after all."

The doctor pauses. "Earlier you were only talking to Dave," he says. "Not the rest of the team."

"Wow. What an outstanding observation, doctor. It's no wonder the FBI hired you."

"Why?"

I sigh. "Let's just say that there is a little bit of bad blood between David and I. I have some questions I would like to ask, but he refused to answer them. He won't even take the time to listen! I know it can be hard to hear the world below the giant throne he has set himself upon, but he is going to miss a lot if he doesn't start paying better attention."

"And you want this attention."

A statement, not a question. I frown. "Of course I do! That's what I just said! That is what this is all about! Why else do you think you're here?"

"I-I could help you," the doctor stutters out. "With your questions. I can at least try to answer them. I know I don't have as much experience as Dave, but-."

I interrupt him with a burst of laughter. "Sorry, kiddo, but no. Other than using you as bait, I have no real use for you. You're kind of like a new toy; all shiny and new and fun to play with, but easily disposable. I have no interest in what you have to say. It's part of the reason I taped your mouth up." I want for the doctor to reply, but he only looks at his tethered feet.

"Does it bother you when he calls you kid?" I ask. "I've heard it many times. How old are you?"

Again, no reply.

"Does it bother you that no matter how much older you get, no matter how many cases you solve he and probably the rest of the team will always think of you as the kid? That cute, awkward little kid that is always there for a good laugh? The child that keeps getting in the way? That's how they think of you, isn't it? Don't deny it. I've seen it."

"They don't."

I grin. "Now you're just fooling yourself, kid."

"They don't."

Defiance. Who the hell does he think he is?

"You know," I say slowly as I move up onto my feet. "Maybe we should have some more fun before your friends get here. Make you all pretty for them. That is if they get here in time. Tell me, since you think you know them so well, do you believe that they will find you in time to save your life? Do you believe they want to?"

"They will."

"Well, you better hope so." I bring back my right leg and send it straight into the doctor's ribs. He collapses back onto the mattress, wheezing in pain. I kick him again, harder this time. "Because if they haven't by this time tomorrow you're going to be fucking dead."

* * *

"I want you off this case," Strauss says. No greetings or warnings; just like that she has cut them down.

"No," Hotch says, scowling.

"No?" she echoes back. "Aaron, I'm sure you haven't forgotten who I am. You should be careful what you say. This case is far too personal for each and every one of you. I can't take the risk of something going wrong."

"If we don't do something now something bad is going to happen," Morgan says. "He's going to die if we don't find him."

"May I remind you that you are not the only capable team of profilers we have here."

"But we are the best," Hotch says. "We know what we're doing. We've worked under personal connections before and it has never once failed us from doing our job."

"That-."

"Erin," Hotch cuts in. "I'm sorry, but unless you have any additional information on what's going on then you're just wasting our time. As Morgan said, we need to act quickly or Reid is going to die. I'm sure you don't want to deal with the mess of a murdered federal agent."

"I don't want to see anyone dead," Strauss replies curtly. "I know it's hard for you to believe, but I want agent Reid returned safely too. But it's my job to make sure that protocols are being followed."

"They will be."

"And what do you plan on doing when you find Spencer? Do you think you'll be able to remain composure if you don't make it in time?"

The level of tension in the room reached a new level. As probable as it was, it was near insult to even consider Reid not being found alive. There was no other option.

Without looking back at his team, Hotch begins to walk towards the open door. "Let's go," he orders. "Time is running out." He does not make eye contact with Strauss as he quickly brushes past her. It would be too risky considering the thoughts currently going through his mind. They are going to find Reid, and they are going to bring him back alive.

* * *

**And now we come to another stopping point! I won't ramble about boring things, like what may happen in the next chapters, so I'll leave it at this. Thank you to everyone who continues to read and review! **


	5. Chapter Five

Strauss' interruption added a new level of tension to the team. Garcia stands half way between the stairs as she waits for the meeting to be over. She had made it five minutes in her office before she started to feel claustrophobic. It no longer felt like her cozy net of safety. The walls were closing in on her, and without having any direction to lead her she could not distract her with busy computer work. So, she waits impatiently, but in a wider space.

The first to leave is Hotch. The look on his face makes Garcia cringe. He looks beyond his normal expression of stoic determination; he is straight pissed off. It's enough for her to decide to wait a moment before asking any questions. She waits for Derek, her safest bet for information.

"I was going to warn you about Strauss," she says as Derek joins her on the stairs. "I just didn't know if it would be okay to text you guys during a meeting or-."

"Don't worry about it, baby girl. It was alright."

"Uh, judging by the look on Hotch's face it was not alright."

"He's worried," Derek says. "We all are."

"I know." Garcia twirls a shining gold ring on her pointer finger. There are questions she wants to ask, but the answers may not be something she wants to know. "How bad was it? The video?"

Derek shakes his head. "Not good."

"What did they do? Is he going to be alright?"

"Penelope-."

"Derek, I know that I said I didn't want to see, but I have to know if my baby is going to be alright."

"Maybe," Derek replies truthfully. "He was hurt bad."

"How?"

"Penelope, you don't want to know. Trust me."

"I have to," Garcia says. Her voice breaks, but she tries to keep her composure. "I have to know so I can be prepared to help him later. When it's over."

Morgan looks at her, unsure of what to tell her.

"Derek! You have to tell me! I'm going to find out sooner or later!"

He sighs. "They hit him. He, the unsub," Morgan corrects himself. "The unsub beat him and… he raped him. Reid. He raped Reid."

"What?" Garcia says in disbelief. "B-but… No! He can't do that to Reid! He's too… Oh, Derek!" Penelope falls forward and clings to her friend for comfort. Derek wraps her arms around her tightly. It is a gesture meant to bring her support, but it helps him as well.

"My poor baby," Garcia says as she wipes away tears. "My poor, sweet little baby. How could anyone do that to him?"

"I don't know."

"We need to get him back. Before it happens again. I-I don't want him to go through that again."

"I know. We will," Morgan says. His voice holds more confidence than he has, but this not the time to second guess himself. "We're going to get Reid back. I swear it."

Garcia sniffles. "Good. And kill that sick bastard. I don't care what Strauss or anyone says. Please just make sure he suffers."

"I will. He's not getting away with this."

* * *

This is the first time that both Hotch and Rossi has been to Reid's apartment. They enter the building feeling unsure of what they were going to find. Morgan had said earlier that there no amount of gore, let alone any signs of a struggle. It was something small to be grateful for, but at the same time was a cause for frustration. They need something to go off of and right now it feels like they have nothing.

"Have either of you been here before?" Hotch asks as they search the living room.

"A few times," JJ says. She carefully removes a book from the shelf and leafs through the pages. Her eyes train on the pages, looking for any sort of little slip of paper that may have been left behind.

"Does it always look this boring?" Rossi asks.

"I don't think Reid is much of a decorator." JJ sets the book back in its place knowing that Reid would not appreciate the order being messed up and takes another. "He's too laid back."

"I wish there was something more here. Even if it was just a clue of what he was doing before he was taken," Rossi says. "You know, I have spent hours upon hours with Reid at work and I still have no idea what that kid does in his free time."

"He's quiet about his private life," Hotch says as he crawls slowly across the floor, searching underneath the sofa. "I don't blame him, but it would be nice to have something to go off of. From what both Prentiss and Morgan said, this room seems to be the most likely where the abduction took place. This or the kitchen."

"But how would he even get Reid out?" JJ asks.

"He could have been threatened or knocked out."

"It would be difficult to move him if he was unconscious," Rossi says. "It would take a lot of work to take out a grown man and move him to a new location with just one person."

"Are we sure it's just him?"

"I don't think he's the type of person to work with others. This is all about him and what he wants. I don't think he would want to share in the glory of taking me down."

"No one is going to take you down, Dave."

Rossi scoffs. "Maybe. We'll see at the end of this."

Hotch and JJ exchange looks. "You know this isn't your fault," JJ says. "Reid's going to be okay."

"He's already not okay. Even if we do get there in time, he is still going to have a lot of problems."

"Reid is stronger than he looks," Hotch says. "He's already been through a lot. He can handle this."

"That doesn't mean he needs to go through any more."

Hotch suppresses a sigh. He knows that Dave is right. The healing process for Reid and the whole team will take a long time. Reid had taken hits before on several occasions, but this was the worst yet. Still, he would be fine, Hotch told himself. They have no other option but to believe that now.

"Did Morgan and Prentiss get the chance to talk to any of the neighbors?" Hotch asks. "Whether Reid was taken out of here by force or on his own will, someone may have saw something."

"No. I don't think so," JJ says."

"JJ, since you know the apartment better you can stay here and continue the investigation. Rossi and I will start talking to the neighbors."

* * *

Professor Ronald Lastine has locked himself away in his office for the day. He had come in the early afternoon to begin grading papers and has not stopped. The office is the only place he can get work done. There is always some sort of chaotic event going on at home with a grown daughter and a toddler grandson running around with addition to his wife always finding some small thing to nag about. It is never ending noise added to a never ending workload. The office was much quieter with the exception of the one or two students stopping by for some help. But there was nothing wrong with that. Ronald Lastine is always ready and willing to help his young students.

There is a knock at the door. "Come in!" Lastine calls out without looking up from his papers. He hears the door creak open, but whoever has yet to say a word. Lastine turns around to see who has entered. There stands a man and a woman, both rather young but too old to be any students of his.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm special agent Derek Morgan and this is special agent Emily Prentiss. We have a few questions we would like to ask you."

"FBI? Do you know David Rossi? I just had him as a guest speaker last week!"

"That's actually the reason why we're here," Emily says.

"Why? Is there something wrong?"

"Do you remember the young man he had with him?"

"Doctor Reid? Of course! He's wonderful. I've been meaning to email him some stuff I have been working on, but I haven't gotten around to it yet. Is he alright? Nothing has happened to him, has it?"

"Why don't you tell us," Derek says as he folds his arms across his chest.

Lastine frowns slightly in confusion. "What? I wouldn't know anything. I haven't seen or spoken to Spencer since the lecture."

"Spencer," Emily echoes back. "That's a little personal."

"Well, we are on friendly terms."

"What do you mean by friendly?" Derek asks.

"Friends," Lastine answers shortly. "Spencer Reid and I are just on friendly terms. I talked to him a bit after the lecture and that's it. Why does it matter to you?"

"See, we heard that it may be a little more."

"Who?" Lastine stops himself from further speaking before he says something he will regret saying to FBI agents. "I don't know what you are talking about. I am a married man. A happily married man. And even if I wasn't, there is nothing wrong with looking."

"So you may have been looking at Doctor Reid in a, you know," Emily says, "more than friendly way."

"There is nothing wrong with looking," Lastine says. "I can't help it if there are attractive people who-."

"How old are you?" Derek asks suddenly. Emily shoots him a look, but says nothing more to stop him."Fifty? Sixty? He has to be at least half your age."

Lastine scowls. "My age is no concern of yours, and it doesn't make a difference. Spencer is not a child, right? There was nothing illegal or perverted going on."

"Maybe not illegal-."

"We're sorry," Emily says, cutting Derek off. "Earlier this morning agent Rossi received some disturbing messages, and it appears that someone has taken Spencer as some sort of revenge."

"Taken? And you think I have something to do with it?"

"Your name was brought up."

"I would never do anything to hurt Spencer. Or anyone," Lastine quickly adds. "That is ridiculous!"

"Look," Emily says. "It will be easier for all of us if you just answered some questions so we can clear you and let you get back to work."

"For what? I already told you I have nothing to do with this! Who even gave you my name? It was David Rossi, wasn't it? God, I got the vibe that the man didn't like me, but I don't know what I did that made him think I would ever do something as terrible as assault Doctor Reid."

"Who said anything about an assault?" Derek asks.

"I-i, w-well," Lastine stutters. "No one, but you certainly implied it! But I swear to God that I would never-."

"Professor, I think it's best if you just come with us now," Emily says. She reaches for a pair of shining handcuffs. Lastine sighs. He is running out of options.

"Fine, but you don't have to handcuff me. I'll go on my own."

Lastine was lead out to the black SUV without being cuffed. He tried his best to keep up a casual front, but it failed him more than he knew. He walked between the two stone faced agents, smiling and nervously greeting his colleagues as they went by. They smiled back, looking both confused and concerned by his escorts.

Derek half shoves the professor into the back of the car and slams the door shut. He and Emily walk around to the front of the car so Lastine won't hear them. "What do you think?" Emily asks.

"He's definitely a creep," Derek says. "He showed some interest in Reid, but I don't think enough to kidnap him. I doubt that's even part of what this is all about."

"Yeah." Emily looks into the window, back at the professor. Lastine sits with his head down and arms folded tightly into his body. "He doesn't look capable of it. Poor Spence, always attracting the weird guys."

Derek smiles. "He probably didn't even notice when Lastine was talking to him."

"Apparently Rossi did."

"He was probably looking out for him. I would have liked to see Rossi's reaction, especially if it was anything like that time we went to that at that Chinese restaurant in L.A."

"Yeah," Emily says, smiling. "Spencer didn't realize it even after we broke it down for him. He seems so clueless about that stuff that it makes you wonder if he's ever done-." Emily stops herself. The smile is gone. Her mind is back to the video, back to watching her friend suffer. "I hope that wasn't his first sexual experience." The word sexual comes out strange. It doesn't seem to fit with Reid, not in this context. "What are we going to do?"

"I don't know," Derek says truthfully. "We're just going to have to be there for him in whatever way he needs."

"Do you think we'll make it in time?"

"Of course! Don't even doubt it. By this time tomorrow we'll have Spencer back with us, safe and sound. He's going to be okay."

"Yeah." But even as the word leaves her mouth, Emily doesn't believe it. "I wonder what he's thinking now."

* * *

Spencer Reid spends a lot of time in his head. It could very well be a likely fact that he has spent a good majority of his past twenty nine years living in his head rather that what most people consider reality. The reason for that is simple: books are easy. People are not. Books could be read and understood in a matter of minutes while people took more time. Books were solid, filled with words and numbers he can rely on. People are not always so reliable. They come and go out his life, some of them forever; like his father, who had abandoned him when Reid needed him the most. Now he must rely and wait on his team to come save him. They will not abandon him, though. At least that is what Reid hopes.

As he waits, Reid thinks about all of the books he has read, most of them going as far back as childhood. He imagines himself reading to his mother, once again reciting those stories he would read to her on those days when they stayed in bed. He knows them well, and despite their dark origins he finds comfort in the words. They help him concentrate on keeping out all of what his kidnapper said earlier. Some of it Reid knew to be true; how his social inability drove Rossi and the rest of his teammates crazy. There were many times when they would be out in public where he would say something wrong or not quite understand what was going on. They would laugh and roll their eyes.

But that's why they love him. They had said so before on several random occasions that gave Reid a sense of hope and acceptance that he never believed he would feel. They do love and miss him. They will do everything they can to get Reid back.

And if they don't?

Reid is a man of logic. He knows there is a very good chance that he can die, and after what the man has already put him through Reid does not doubt his ability. Reid means nothing to him. He is so easily disposable, just as he has been to many others. He could die here in the darkness and that would be the end of it.

As much as he tries to stray from the thought, Reid wonders about his own funeral. Who would show up? Who would cry? Who would speak and who would just stand quietly? During Emily's funeral there had been many tears, his included. To think that his team may have to go through another loss devastated Reid, and this time there would be no resurrection.

His captor has left the room again after performing another assault on Reid's body. At least this time it was not recorded for all of the team to see. How he would look at them, knowing that each and every one of them witnessed the humiliating abuse was beyond him. Reid thinks of Derek then and how he didn't want anyone to about what happened to him when he was young. Maybe he can talk to Derek. If he wants to talk about it.

The door opens, and Reid flinches. His brief moment of peace is over. The man strolls across the room, casually humming an indefinable tune to himself. The first that Reid notices is that he is no longer wearing a mask. The lack of lighting in the room made it more difficult for him to make out features but what could be gathered was immediately logged into Reid's memory. The man appears to be middle aged most likely being somewhere around his mid to late 40's. A thick mass of hair clung to his forehead with sweat that had been created during their previous activity. The best word to describe the colour is brown; nothing more or nothing less. There was little remarkable about this man. His face was bland, so much so that it almost seemed unnaturally undefined. His eyes were small and around, perhaps spaced a little too far apart. His lips were somewhat full, and could be considered to be one of his better features if they were not always pulled into a scowl. The only thing about him that could be considered above average was his height. He was a tall man, taller than Reid by an inch or so. His posture is slightly hunched likely due to a deep seeded, unacknowledged lack of security. He was stronger than he looked, as Reid knew very well by now, and hid it well behind dark, ill fitting clothing. But despite all that Reid was able to gather, he could not put a name to the face.

"Hello there, kiddo!" the man says brightly. Reid flinches as he draws closer. His kidnapper sits down by him again and frowns. "Your socks don't match."

He leans in to get a better look at the profiler's feet. "I didn't even notice before. Why on Earth did you do that?"

"I always do."

"But why?" He runs a hand across Reid's foot and grabs a hold of his ankle. A grin splits across his face once he feels the agent shiver. "What's wrong, kiddo? Do you not like it when I touch you? Oh, sweetheart, how are we supposed to have any fun if you're going to be so shy?"

Reid focuses his sight onto the shadowy wall in front of him. He has already been through this twice now. How many more times can this happen again before his team saves him?

"We don't have to do it now," the man says. "We can save it for later. I'm sure there are more fun things we can do to pass the rest of our time together! What do you want to do?"

"I want to talk to my friends," Reid says with little emotion.

"We can do that!"

Reid turns his attention towards him. He must be lying, Reid tells himself. There is no way he would allow this to happen. "Really?" Despite his best efforts to mask his emotions, a small ray of hope comes through.

The man smiles. Yes, hope. He recognizes it right away. Hope is a wonderful thing, especially to crush. "Of course, kiddo!" he exclaims. "I've been planning to check in. It's getting late now; almost one in the morning. We can see if any of them are still awake, but I doubt it."

"They will be," Reid tries to assure him. "They'll still be working."

"Yeah sure, kid. Let me go find a proper phone for us to use. I'm sure they'll love hearing from you."

Once his captor has left, Reid smiles. Soon he will be able to talk to his team mates. He knows full well it could very well be a cruel prank or turn into another version of the video recording, but in the moment the idea of being able to hear loving voices is something he can hold on to. There is hope, Reid tells himself. There is always hope.

* * *

**Done! We are getting closer to the end, and with sooner updates! I hope to have this finished in two or three more chapters. If I'm lucky it will be before school starts. Thank you to all of those who read and review! I know I say it pretty much every time, but it does mean a lot.**


	6. Chapter Six

Reid's neighbors proved to be little help. Few knew Reid, and those who did knew very little about him. Only two people were able to provide any more substantial information was the old woman, who introduced herself as Mabel Pinkleman that lives in the apartment next door. She only confirmed what the team assumed; that Reid never left that morning. The woman saw him every day at the same time. She would just be leaving for her morning walk to a nearby café for a breakfast as Reid left for work. They walked down the stairs together, but the conversation was often kept to a minimum with Mabel leading the conversation. When JJ asked if she had seen or heard from Reid this day Mabel said no, she had not. She assumed he was asleep or sick, and although she was concerned for her young neighbor, she did not want to disturb him.

"Let me know when you find him," Mabel said after JJ thanked her for her time. "He's such a nice boy. I hate to think anything bad would happen to him."

The only other person who was able to provide JJ with more than a few vague answers was a man who lived two doors down away from Ms. Pinkleman. He plainly wears an expression of annoyance once he opens the door. It is not until JJ explains the reasons behind her disturbance does he remember his manners. The man did not know Reid off the top of his head, but once JJ describes him he was able to remember. "Oh him," the neighbor says. He smiles then. "I've run into him once or twice in the hall. Nice guy. I didn't know he was in the FBI. Well, to be honest I don't know much about him. I only moved in a few months ago. I run into him in the hall every once in awhile, but that's about it."

"Do you remember the last time you saw him?"

"Some time after 11:30. I think. It was before midnight, though. I do know that."

"Was there anyone with him?"

"No," the man says with a frown. "I don't think so. I just saw him go to his door. Didn't say anything. He looked tired, though. So was I. I always get stuck with the late shifts. I work at a diner a few blocks down. Well, that's one of my jobs. Does the FBI keep you guys out late?"

"Depends." JJ tries to get him back on track. "What did you talk about those other times?"

"Oh, you know, the boring stuff. Traffic and weather. Nothing interesting."

"Has he ever brought up anyone?"

"Nope."

"Did you see him with anyone that night?" JJ asks, hopefully.

"No. But there might have been someone in the hall later. I thought I heard someone, but that's nothing unusual. There are people coming and going nearly much all hours of the night. It's annoying, really. Some get pretty loud, especially on the weekends. It's like they forgot that they aren't the only ones who live in this building."

"Was there anyone loud last night? Like fighting?"

The man thinks. "No. Not that I recall. But I passed out pretty quickly. It was a long day with, you know, work and all."

"Where did you say you work again? JJ asks as her cell phone begins to vibrate.

"Cream and Sugar. It's a diner down a few blocks. I take the late shifts now that Jen's getting old. She owns the place."

JJ reads the text message, vaguely listening to what the man was saying. It was from Emily; they were almost back with Lastine. "Oh, I've never been there, but it sounds nice," she says politely as she places the phone back into her jacket pocket and exchanges it with a business card. "I have to go, but if you think of anything later could you call me? Even if it doesn't seem like it, it could be significant."

"Sure."

"Oh, I'm sorry. What did you say your name is?"

"Alec Clark."

"Right. I'm Jennifer Jereau," JJ says with a smile. She extends her card. The man takes it and smiles back. "Thank you for your time, Alec. Really, I appreciate it."

"It's not a problem! I'll give you a call if I can think of anything."

"Thanks."

* * *

Rossi wants to make sure he was the one who got to interrogate professor Lastine. He deserves the opportunity, and no one could convince him otherwise. At first Hotch was hesitant at first out of fear of how Dave would react, especially if it turned out that Lastine did have something to do with it, but now he relents. It is obvious that the senior profiler was on edge. He needs to do something to feel like he is doing something to have some sense of control. Strauss, although not in favor of the idea as she so vocally made known, also gives in under the condition that she sits in and monitors the interrogation so no legal boundaries are overstepped. Rossi does not even bother with arguing. The clock is ticking, and by the second he is become more desperate to find Spencer before he is hurt worse.

Hotch, Emily, and Morgan watch the professor from the other side of the mirror. Lastine looks around the room as he drums his fingers against the table top. His face is filled with anxiety, not the expression of vengeful, calculating kidnapper. "Do you think it's him?" Hotch asks.

"No, not really," Derek answers truthfully. "He definitely has interest in Reid, but I don't think it's enough to do anything extreme. He barely even mentioned Rossi."

"Did he mention anything about the abduction?"

"No. If anything it sounded like he had no idea about it. He could be good at lying, but honestly I think he's capable of this. Look at him in there. He seems too pathetic to be able to pull it off."

"The man in the video was hiding behind a mask," Emily says. "He could not be secure enough to show is face, but may still be able to pull it off with the right sense of security. We would have certainly taken it away."

"I don't think so. He was out right with his thoughts towards Reid, but I don't think they were anything more than creepy. Besides, Lastine doesn't even look physically capable of it."

"Unless he is working with someone," Hotch says. "He wouldn't leave Reid on his own for so long."

"God it'd be nice if he would," Emily says. "I don't know to think about what could be going on now."

Rossi enters the room with Strauss right behind him. In his hands is a folder contain a file of what little evidence they have been able to gather so far as well some background information on Lastine that Garcia managed so scrape up.

Lastine watches the two carefully. "I don't understand why I'm even here," he says. "I haven't talked to Doctor Reid since last week. You can't possibly think I have anything to do with this."

"And what would this be?" Rossi asks as he takes a seat.

"The kidnapping or whatever is going on."

"Kidnapping?"

"That is what the other agents said," Lastine says, flustered. "They already asked me about this, and I'm going to tell you the same thing I told them. I had nothing to do with this. You're just wasting my time and your time."

"Maybe I wanted to talk to you."

Lastine scowls. "About what? You're in the middle of a case and you want to small talk? Agent Rossi, I don't know if you're joking or not, but-."

"Tell me," Rossi interrupts. He opens the file and flicks through the pages until he finds what he is looking for. "Tell me, Lastine. How often do you give out extra credit to your students."

"On occasion. If they need it and deserve it."

"What qualifies them of deserving it?"

"They're determination to work. Some kids want to do well, but have a harder time keeping up in the class room, so I give them another chance."

"And what does this extra credit usually consist of."

Lastine hesitates a moment. "Papers. I assign them extra chapters in their text book to read and have them write a three to four page paper over it."

"That's it?"

"Yes."

"Well," Rossi says as he places the open folder down on the table top, facing Lastine. Strauss frowns slightly. Her focus goes from the folder to Rossi. "It looks like you have a pretty well documented history of taking advantage of your students' educational needs. Did you have them write papers over the sexual assignments you gave them?"

Both Lastine and Strauss turn shades of red. "I- I," Lastine falters. "That had nothing to do with class work. Everything was consensual."

"Your students seem to say otherwise."

"Everything was consensual."

"But you don't deny taking interest in your students." When Lastine doesn't answer, Rossi goes on to the next question. "Did you take interest in Reid?"

"Spencer is an adult."

"You're at least twice his age," Rossi says. His tone darkens. It sends Strauss on alert, but she cannot deny a sense of anger seeping into her.

"So what?" Lastine says. "Are you telling me that you've never slept with someone younger than you? Can you truthfully deny that you have not looked at some hot young thing and not wanted them? No. It's human nature. There might have been things I would have liked to do to Spencer, but all forms of contact ended as soon as you two walked out the door. I'll tell you again; you're wasting your time."

* * *

This game is taking much too long. Soon it will be over, and I have yet to hear from David personally. The doctor has brought up the idea of calling his friends to help progress. I pretended to be thrilled by the thought, but I was not. Amused would be a better word. Amuse that he would think that I'm stupid enough to even consider going through with that. I know what the FBI is capable. They would find some sort of way to trace me, and I am not giving myself up that easily. As long as there is still time left in the game, there is still time for suffering.

I return the doctor's room with my mask back on. He watches me, so carefully and so fearful as if he is just waiting for the moment for me to pounce again. I smile. "Good to see you're still awake," I say. "How is your head doing?"

His eyes search over me, no doubt looking for the phone.

"I don't have it," I tell him. "The phone, if that's what you're looking for."

"I- I thought you wanted to call David."

I sit down next to him. "No. Not now. There will be a time for that. I was just trying to see if you would get your hopes up." There is heartbreak in his eyes to which I grin. "There it is! I don't know why you even thought I would. Do you honestly think I'm that careless?"

" No, but-."

"You really aren't that smart, at least not genius level. If you were, then you probably would have figured a way to get out already. Hell, you don't even remember who I am! After all of the times we sat together in the same room." I shake my head. "I can name at least five. One just last week. You aren't very observant, are you?"

The doctor frowns. He is trying to remember, but fails. "I even gave you my real name twice," I say. "Maybe I hit your head too many times. Oh, off topic, but I have been wondering this for the past hour. How would you feel about me ripping out each and every one of your teeth? We can use them to make a trail to here. I'm sure the FBI or at least David would spring for some nice, new replacements. Well, that is if you aren't dead by then. By the looks of the current time that may be the likely outcome. I can't decide how to do it, though. I'm torn between cutting you open and let you bleed out and bashing your head into the wall until they're covered with your brains. Maybe I'll make you the tie breaker."

The doctor lies perfectly still. He is no longer looking at me.

"Don't worry," I say as I run a hand over his chest. "There's still time left. Plenty to sneak a little more fun in. How are you feeling about another round?"

"No," he replies bluntly.

"Even if we had an audience?"

"No."

"Well, it doesn't matter really. Trust me, kiddo. You'll have fun. Just try to relax."

The doctor tries to move away, but I grab on to him and push my weight onto him. "I'm going to fuck you, and the least you can do is try to fucking relax. For your sake."

"No!"

I grab the doctor by the hair, dragging him off the mattress on to the floor. I pull him up towards my chest and send him down so that his skull cracks against the hard floor. The action is repeated twice more before I stop to take a break. Surely the neighbors have heard by now, and surely I do not care. Panting, I glare at the doctor. His hair is still tangled up in my fist. He won't look at me now; his eyes have been tightly shut in anticipation for the next blow. "I could kill you now," I growl. "But I want you alive for this. But first, I'm going to get us an audience. If you want to talk to your fucking friends, then I'm going to let you talk to your fucking friends. They can listen while I fuck your brains out."

* * *

The interrogation had been going on for hours now and there had been little to no progress. Deep down Rossi knows that Lastine is not the man they are looking for. His feelings towards Spencer were nothing more than a perverted crush. Still, David is reluctant to give up. There has to be something useful there; he just needs to keep digging. Just as he is about to set off another round of questions, his phone goes off. Rossi looks at the screen and is unable to recognize the number. His heart beat picks up. It must be the unsub.

"Hello?"

"David? Is that you? I didn't expect you to pick up so quickly! Slow day at the office?"

Rossi looks towards the mirror. Already Morgan has gone off to get Garcia. Despite their cool personas, Hotch and Prentiss look clearly on edge. This may be their only chance. "We've been busy."

"Looking for me, right? Have you gotten anywhere?"

"There's been progress."

"Really now? Well, I do hope it's enough to save your poor little friend. The clock is ticking, you know. He's getting rather antsy here, and he misses you terribly. In fact, that's the reason I called. The doctor wants to talk to you."

"Really," Rossi says, unsure. He gets up from the table and heads towards the door, once again leaving Lastine. Without saying a word, Strauss shoots up and follows him out of the room and into the bullpen. "Would you allow me to talk to Spencer?"

"Yes, you can talk to the doctor if you want in a minute. We can have our talk later. I think you owe it to me. I've gone to a lot of trouble here."

"We can do it now," Dave offers. "Let Spencer go and you will have my undivided attention."

"Do you know how insufferable your stupid little doctor is?" Agitation and malice is laced throughout the UnSub's tone. Rossi cringes. This cannot be good for Reid. "I cannot talk to him without having him say something incredibly stupid or boring," the man continues to say. "But I'm sure you know all about that from your personal experience. It's taken me every ounce of my self control to not completely smash his head into the floor. You've probably have wanted to do that many times, haven't you? I just about did, but he's not dead yet."

"He hasn't done anything to you," Rossi says as strongly as he can manage. "You can let him go, and we can talk-."

"No! No, it does not work that way, David! I have set up this game and we're going to follow the rules! If you even try to break any of them I will kill the doctor right now! I will make sure you're the one who finds the corpse, and I can assure you now that it is not going to be pretty! It's not going to be something any of you are going to forget any time soon!"

Throughout this time the UnSub has maintained a calm and controlled attitude, but now he's losing it. Rossi can feel it. Reid does not have much time left.

Through the phone Rossi can hear a loud ripping noise. He recognizes it as the sound of tape being pulled from a roll. Reid will be silenced again; they won't be able to get any information out of him.

"I was going to let you two talk," the man says through harsh breaths. "But I don't think that's a very good idea. I'm just going to let you listen while I destroy his body. Hopefully by the time it's over he's still alive and you've thought of something new, you stupid fuckers. I'm not making any promises."

Rossi looks around at his teammates. Prentiss and Hotch are beginning to lose their practiced composure. Strauss' looks have already given away to show horror. Rossi knows Garcia is hard at work in her office, frantically clicking away at her keys as Morgan stands beside her, trying to push her along. They'll make it work. There's no other choice.

* * *

**Hello! So, I realize that it took me quite awhile to update. I apologize. It's been busy with school lately, and to be honest I was debating where to go with this story from here. I had an ending concrete in my mind from the start, but I am debating about starting to conquer some demons. It is still undecided, though! Thank you to those who continue to read and stick with this story. I promise to have the next chapter up much sooner than the last. I'll start this weekend!**


	7. Chapter Seven

"Did you get anything?"

Garcia jumps from her seat and for a moment her concentration is broken. She looks over her shoulder to see a very anxious Hotch."Kind of," she says as goes back, clicking away. "It keeps bouncing all over the place. I'm going to get it though. That stupid bastard is-."

"Garcia, we don't have time. This needs to be done now."

"I know! I know!" Her typing becomes more frantic. "I'm doing everything I can! I'm not like you guys, I can't work under these kinds of conditions!"

"Baby girl," Morgan says, "Just keep doing what you're doing. You're going to get this."

"I know, but Reid-."

"We're going to get him."

Just as Garcia lets out a frustrated sigh, a new screen pops up on the monitor. She quickly scans through the information and gasps. "Oh! Oh! Oh!"

"What?" Both Hotch and Morgan ask as the lean forward to read the message for themselves.

"Good! So good! Okay, so there was a 911 call placed over a domestic dispute right after Rossi got the call. There are reports of slamming, sounds of physically fighting, and yelling. It's right in one of the areas the signal was bouncing from."

"Where?" Hotch asks.

"Cadbury Apartment Complex, number 10. They're calling about their neighbors above."

"That's where Reid lives."

Garcia and Morgan look at each other. "Are you fucking kidding me?" Morgan says.

"Same hall, I think."

"I was just there!"

"We all were. Garcia, who is leasing in 20?"

"That would be Leon Habben, age 49 and works at the Book Market. He just moved in about three months ago. No criminal record, but I'll start digging."

"Good. We're going to go. Let us know when you find anything."

* * *

As close as they were to Reid's apartment, the drive there seemed to last forever. Strauss demanded that she tagged along out of concern of how closely the team will stick to protocol and, although she may not admit it, she could not handle having to stay behind, waiting for results. No one took time to argue. Had she not got in the seat next to Rossi, he might now have even noticed her.

"What's the plan?" Morgan asks. "Besides killing this guy."

"No one is going to die," Hotch says. "We're taking him alive if we can. There won't be much room, and we'll want to give off as little notice as possible. Dave and I will take the lead-."

"Is that a good idea? This guy is targeting Rossi. Do we really want to give him what he wants?"

"If it comes to it, he may be out best chance with getting Reid back." Hotch looks in the review mirror back at Rossi. "Do you think you'll be able to handle this?"

"I'll be fine," Rossi answers shortly. He is far too anxious to talk now. No matter what plan he was told to follow, Rossi knows that he will be the first one up there, and if anyone is going to get a shot at this so called Leon Habben it's going to be him. Hotch had quickly briefed them on their suspect, but the name did not bring up any memories, despite the man's claims that they had met previously. His mind does not seem to be working properly these past few days. This would not be the first case that hit close to home, but none of those had left him feeling so incompetent and helpless. Maybe he has stayed in the game for too long.

As the team climbs the stairs up to the third floor, they can hear a loud stream of curses accompanied with a thud between every other word. "Jesus," Emily hisses to JJ. "I don't think I'm ready for this."

"We'll have Spence soon," JJ tries to reassure her. "It will be over."

"Will it?"

Hotch leads the team to the door of apartment 30. "FBI!" He doesn't wait a moment before kicking open the door. He runs in, gun out and ready, with Rossi right behind him. The apartment is a mirror layout of Reid's. They make their way through the living room, towards the closed bedroom door. The swearing has stopped. Whatever leverage they had was quickly fading. Hotch kicks down the door and bursts into the room.

"FBI! Freeze!"

But the man, with the mask fully disguising his face, is already on the break. He runs for a door nearby, the one connecting to the bathroom. Hotch notices Reid lying on a mattress face down. He lies still with his eyes shut, hands bound, and mouth gagged with a thick layer of tape. He is thankful to see his agent fully clothed, though his pants are covered in blood. The rest of the injuries have not even registered. In a second, Hotch has to decide whether he should stay with Reid or go after their masked suspect. He chooses the suspect.

"Morgan, Prentiss, get the exits! He's running!"

Rossi runs through into the bedroom. He immediately places his gun in its holster upon seeing Reid. Even with all of the commotion going on, the young agent's eyes have remained shut, and Rossi fears the worst. He rushes over to his bound co-worker and kneels beside him. "Spencer," Rossi says, nearly shouting as he places a hand on the younger man's shoulder. Reid remains limp and unresponsive. "Spencer, it's okay now."

Then he notices the large, dark blue bruises that have formed underneath Reid's eyes. A layer of dark crusted mixed with a freshly spilled blood dripping from his nose onto his chin. The hair on the back of his head has been matted down, slick with blood. Rossi suddenly realizes the presence of all of the blood. The blood in his hair. The blood soaked in his pants. The stains on the mattress. The small pool on the floor. So much blood.

Slowly, Reid opens his eyes. It takes everything Rossi has to not kiss him right then and there. Instead, he gently moves to place his on Reid's cheek, trying his best to stay away from the bruised area. Reid flinches violently away from the touch, and despite himself Rossi feels hurt.

"It's okay," he says again. He reaches into his pocket and takes out a small pocket knife. "I'm going to get you out of here." Rossi takes a hold of Reid's wrists and carefully places the knife up to the plastic ring. There are hurried steps behind them. Rossi freezes and looks over his shoulder, ready to attack if anyone dared to threaten his newly saved friend.

"Is he alive?" Strauss asks, her voice filled with concern. She doesn't even wait for Rossi to answer before she makes her way through the room and kneels beside Reid. "It's okay, Spencer," she says softly as she brushes hair away from the agent's eyes. This time Reid does not flinch. If anything he seems to relax a little more. Rossi bites the inside of his check to resist scowling. Sure, he's terrified of the guy he works with just about every day- his friend- but he seems perfectly fine with the Dragon Lady.

Rossi cuts the plastic tie in half and for the first time in over a day Reid is able to move his arms. His movements are stiff and pained, but he tries his best to bring back feeling. He struggles to sit, but Rossi gently touches his arm. "Wait a minute kid. Let me get your legs."

Strauss takes one of Reid's hands into her own as she watches Rossi cut through the ties. "He got out the fire escape," she says. "They all went after him."

Rossi cuts through the nylon cord and tosses it aside. "We're going to need an ambulance."

"I already called for one."

"Do you think we can cut through the tape?"

"I would prefer to save it for the professionals."

Weakly, Reid shakes his head. He attempts to bring himself up again. Rossi and Strauss help him up. For a moment Reid is able to hold himself on his own, but he falls to the side into Strauss. His eyes are glazed over and he is clearly dehydrated, that being the least of his problems. Reid needs a doctor now.

Rossi watches their Section Chief coddle the injured agent. She sits with her arm around the young man's shoulder, his head resting against hers as she whispers words of comfort. It's a strange site. It's been a strange few days.

As if she has picked up on Rossi' thoughts, Strauss turns her eyes towards him. "I'm not always the Dragon Lady," she says. "I am always a mother first."

"I don't have a problem with it. I just want to get him out of here. I don't know what's taking them so fucking long."

"They'll be here."

Reid whimpers from behind the tape. Rossi cannot stand seeing him like that any longer; he has to get rid of it. "Hold still, kid."

"No!" Strauss exclaims as she protectively places her hand over Reid's check. "What if you cut him?"

"I won't."

"David-."

Reid moves his hands up to his mouth and weakly scratches at the tape.

"See? He wants it off. Hold on, kid."

"Be careful."

Just as Rossi raises the blade, the crying of sirens fills the air.

"They're here," Strauss says rather coldly. "Just let them get it."

"Do you doubt me?

"Does he look like he needs any more pain?"

"I'm-." Rossi stops. He knows he can do it. He could do it without hurting Reid; he wouldn't allow it. But there was no point or arguing, not when Reid will soon get the help he needs.

* * *

Hotch tried his best to keep up with the masked man, but he had a head start and was quick on his feet. He chased the unsub down the fire escape and through an alley, where the man ripped off his mask and threw it over his shoulder, not once looking back. Out of anger and frustration, Hotch had taken a shot at him in hopes of slowing him down, whether he was startled or the more preferred option of a hit. He led Hotch out into an overly crowded street. Hotch weaved in and out of people, occasionally pushing aside a few that did not listen soon enough. He tried to give the others the location, but he had no idea how close or how far they were.

In the end the man faded into the crowd, now lost amongst all of the passing faces. Once Hotch lost sight of the unsub it was near impossible to find him again. He had not seen the man's face. He would not be able to identify him outside of what he was wearing; a long sleeved grey thermal and dark pair of jeans.

He was gone.

Reid had been rushed into the emergency room. There is so much chaos going on; the doctors running about and talking to each other, Rossi arguing with them and then Strauss arguing with Rossi. The lights are so bright and voices so loud. Everything hurts.

They bring him into an examining room, and right away there are policemen asking him questions, much to annoyance of his nurse. She asks him if he would like any help changing his clothes. Reid stares at her, unable to comprehend. The nurse goes ahead and carefully helps peel away the bloodied clothes and trades them for a flimsy hospital gown. She does her best to shield Reid as much as possible for the officer badgering him with questions that he can barely answer. Now that he is free to speak, the words fail him. Between scolding the officer, who does not look too comfortable himself, the nurse does her best to explain to Reid what she will have to do. Her words are soft but strong, and for a moment it reminds Reid of his own mother. He wonders what she is doing now.

"There's someone here to see you," another nurse says from the now open doorway.

Reid expects to see Rossi or Strauss again, but instead he finds someone else.

"Hotch?"

He panics then. He did not want his boss to see him like this, particularly not in this state of dress.

"Do you want him here, sweetie?" the nurse quietly asks Reid.

Reid isn't sure how to answers, but still, he nods.

"As long as you're okay with it. I wasn't sure if you wanted someone here for this part. It's not going to be fun. I'm going to give you a relaxant," she explains as she prepares an area for injection. "To make it a little easier on you."

Hotch glances at the nurse as he walks across the room to the examining table where Reid sits. The nurse says that she will return with the doctor to do the rape kit, and then left them so that they may talk for a moment. For awhile neither says anything. Hotch is the first to speak. "How are you feeling?" he asks.

Reid thinks about the video his kidnapper sent the team. They know much more than he would have ever wanted. "Terrible," he says honestly.

"You don't look you're best."

Despite himself, Reid cracks a grin. If it were not for the pain he would break into laughter, but instead falls into tears. His head is pounding, with no help from his newly acquired stitches. Hotch takes the young agent into his arms. He rests Reid's aching head against his chest so he can't see the tears welling up in his own eyes. "I'm sorry," Reid whimpers.

"You have nothing to be sorry about."

Reid rubs at his eyes, forgetting his broken nose. The contact, though brief, is far too painful, but he tries his best to hide it. "Strauss hugged me too," he says. "It was strange."

"I bet," Hotch says, smiling softly.

"D-did you get him?"

A woman in a white walks into the room with the nurse right behind her. "No," Hotch whispers. He can feel Reid tense up against him. "But we will. You're safe."

"Will you stay with me?"

"Of course."

* * *

Strauss called in another team to take over the case. Now that Reid had returned, she found no reason to keep the team on the case. Hotch of course argued against it, but Strauss quickly shut him down. "This could have gone much worse," she said. "And we're lucky it didn't. I'm not going to take any more risks with this. There is a man on the loose who kidnapped and tortured a federal agent, and I am going to need people in the right state of mind to close this case. Not only is this far too personal, but your team has been working nonstop for the past few days. You need some rest. All of you."

They begin their break at the hospital where they wait to hear about Reid's condition. Emily, JJ, and Rossi have settled down in to stiff arm chairs, but Derek is feeling much less restless. He paces the waiting room floor, texting Garcia the updates.

"You're making me nervous," JJ says to him.

"Sorry," Derek replies absent mindedly. Despite his apology, he continues to pacing.

"How bad did he look?" Emily asks Rossi.

Rossi glances at his own phone. He texted Hotch twice since he had gone in to see Reid, but has yet to get a reply. He wasn't expecting one too soon, but the waiting for any bit of information is draining.

"He'll live."

"That bad?"

"Let's just say it could be awhile before he starts looking like Spencer again," Rossi says. "Or acting. If he ever does."

Emily bites the inside of her bottom lip. "I don't know how he's going to do this. Not that he has a choice."

"We'll be there for him," JJ says. "The best we can do now is to try to make him feel as safe and as comfortable as possible. Derek, can you see if Garcia can run by Spencer's place and pick up some clothes for him to change in to once he is done here?"

"Yeah. Anything else I should tell her to get?"

"Whatever she thinks will make Spencer feel better." JJ pauses. "Where is Reid going after this?"

"I don't know, Emily says. "I'm sure Strauss has people over there now. He may not even want to back, at least not for awhile."

Rossi places his phone out of sight in hopes to help distract the tension. "I'll take him."

"Do you think that's a good idea?" Derek asks.

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"Well, the guy who did this to him was after you. We still don't have him. What if he comes after you or Reid again?"

"I can protect Reid," Rossi says, the anger growing in his voice. "With the security system I have, there is no way that bastard is getting in without me knowing. Besides, I have more than enough space for it. If you're doubting my ability to protect Spencer then you can come to!"

"I'm not doubting you, man. I'm just thinking about Reid here."

"And I'm not?"

"Guys," Emily interrupts. "Calm down. Reid doesn't need more drama in his life right now. Let's see what he thinks before we decide where he goes."

Rossi grinds his teeth. He knows Derek has a very valid point, but he has a sense of responsibility. He should be the one who cares for Reid; he owes it to him. He'll spend the rest of his life trying to make it up to Reid if he has to. But for now, all he can do is wait.

* * *

**Hello! I apologize for taking awhile to get this up. Last week was homecoming, and thankfully it was my last. All I have to show for those wasted weeks of planning is a silly crown. But now my schedule is a little more open, and I'm going to make sure this gets finished! In all honesty this was supposed to be the last chapter, but I had a change of heart with the ending. I know this one will be more difficult to write, but I know it is how it should be. I can promise that the drama is not about to slow down now, though!**

**Thank you for those who continue to read and review! You are all wonderful people. **


	8. Chapter Eight

Hotch sits with Reid through the entire examination. He holds on to the younger agents hand as an offering of comfort. When Reid would wince, Hotch squeezes his hand harder. The nurse, who quickly warmed up to Hotch, tries her best to make conversation to help lighten the mood. They talked about Jack and the possibility of a puppy in the future. When the nurse attempts to include Reid in the conversation, Spencer never replies. He stares at the walls with blank eyes, vaguely listening to the conversations taking place around him.

Throughout the process, the doctor, Dr. Burton, explains every step. She tries to keep her tone as soothing as possible, but the amount of blood is disturbing to her. Still, she tries to stay positive as she collects evidence from Reid's body. "Hopefully you will get a match from some of this."

Hotch looks at Reid. He has the urge to apologize for letting the unsub get away, but instead squeezes Reid's hand again.

"You're going to be sore down here for a awhile," Dr. Burton says as she finishes up. "Maybe even a week. I'm sure I don't have to tell your boss this, but I'm going to recommend that you take quite a bit of time off. You shouldn't be doing much, okay?"

Reid nods absent mindedly. He couldn't think about the upcoming let alone the next few minutes. There is far too much to think about. He still hasn't told his mother yet. If he would ever tell her.

After the rape kit had been collected, Reid is taken into another room where he is told that he would need to be interviewed by a psychiatrist. Before leaving, Dr. Burton gave him some Valium to help ease the pain. "I don't see why I have to do this," he says to Hotch.

"They're painkillers," Hotch replies.

"No. I know. I mean the whole talking thing." Reid keeps his eyes on the floor to help shield his embarrassment. "I don't want to talk about it."

"You're going to have to."

Reid shakes his head.

"Spencer," Hotch says, softly, "they need to get your story for evidence."

"I don't see why I have to talk about it. I already lived through it once. You guys have the video. Isn't that enough?"

"Was there more that went on?"

"Can we not talk about this?" Reid asks. "I can't do this now. Not with you… No offense."

"It's okay."

"I-I just don't want to think about it, and I don't want you to have to think about it either. Can we pretend it never happened?"

"That's not going to help anything, Spencer."

"I know," Reid says as he bites what's left of his freshly clipped nails. "But just for now."

"Yes, of course. Whatever you need."

* * *

Garcia rushes in to the waiting room as a blur of bright colours. "Where is he?" she demands. "Where is my baby?"

"Somewhere back there," Emily says. "We're still waiting to hear from Hotch. Did you bring clothes?"

"Yes!" Garcia exclaims as she raises a plastic bag filled with clothing. "Several. I wasn't sure what he would want. It was weird going through Spencer's closet."

"Did you find anything interesting?" Morgan asks.

"No. Not that I had the chance to snoop. Strauss has the entire area swarmed. I can't believe he was still in the building the whole time."

"We were just a few feet away from the start."

"I think I may have talked to the unsub," JJ says.

The group turns to her, shocked.

"But he didn't say his name was Leon Habben. It was something like Alex or Alec Clark. He worked late nights. I was right there. I was talking to him. I should have known something was up and Spencer-."

"Oh, no honey," Garcia interrupts. "That guy isn't even Leon Habben. Leon Habben is dead."

"What?" Emily says.

"Yup, been dead for a year now. He was killed in a car accident two states away. Whoever got the apartment was using his identity."

"Do we have any idea who this guy is then?" Morgan asks.

"No," Garcia says, sadly. "At least not yet. She wants me to take the night off and let Kevin do some work, but you know me, no creeps can hide from me! Especially not creeps who hurt my poor, precious babies!"

Morgan smirks. "God help that bastard."

"So, is Strauss still letting you work the case?" Emily asks.

"Yeah, not that she has a choice. I'm sorry about you guys though."

"I'm sure Hotch will get us back in," JJ says. "There's no way they can finish this without us."

Garcia looks at Rossi. He has yet to say anything since she's arrived. It worries her. Before she can say anything, Rossi's phone goes off. The team anxiously watches as he reads the message. "Is it Hotch?" Emily asks.

"He says they're done," Rossi says, still looking at the screen. "We can go in if we want."

"All of us?" JJ asks. "Will that be too overwhelming?"

Garcia pushes past everyone and heads out of the waiting room. "Well, I don't know about you guys, but nothing is going to keep me away from seeing my little baby genius. I'll see you later."

* * *

The interview process was long and grading, and by the end of it the only thing Reid wanted to do was go to bed. He had relived every moment, filling in details when the officer asked. For the most of the time Reid felt like he was repeating himself. It was almost like an interrogation, and he started to wonder how much of his story did the office doubt. When he became confused he would look to Hotch for guidance, who would try to smooth out the questions as best as he could.

The photographs of his injuries were just added humiliation for Reid. Hotch asked if he wanted him to leave, but Reid shook his head. The thought of some man he didn't know taking pictures of him on his own, barely clothed, was more frightening than being embarrassed by Hotch witnessing it. In the least Hotch would be there to put an end to it if it became too difficult.

But as of now it's over, and Reid can finally get some rest. He lies down in hospital bed they put him in with Hotch sitting beside him in a chair. "Do you want me to turn the TV on?" he asks.

Reid shakes his head. "No. You can if you want."

Hotch glances at his phone. He has yet another text from Rossi, this one being the third, asking for an update. "How opposed would you be to having some company?"

"Who?" Reid asks after a moment of hesitation.

"The team. Everyone is anxious to see you."

"Everyone?" The words of his captor came back to him. He spoke so harshly of how no one cared about him, how they would be better off without him, but here they all are. It is a relief, but still those words linger in his mind.

"It's okay if you say no," Hotch says. "I don't want you to get overwhelmed. Your health is the main concern right now."

Reid picks at an edge of the white blanket. It smells overly clean. The whole room does. It's starting to make him feel nauseous. "I guess," he says, finally. "For a little while."

"I can always make them leave, if you want," Hotch says as he types a reply to Rossi. "It will take just one look and they'll go running."

A small smile spreads across Reid's face. Before he has a chance to reply, the door opens.

"Baby!"

Garcia rushes into the room, her arms wide open with the plastic bag still in hand, ready to embrace the young, injured agent.

"Garcia," Hotch says, sternly.

She stops in her track, not just because the tone in her boss' voice, but she has just noticed the amount of injury on Reid's face. "Oh, sweetheart," she says with tears welling up in her eyes. She walks to the bedside opposite to Hotch and kneels down next Reid. Carefully, she brushes some stray hairs across his forehead. "Oh, sweetie."

Morgan enters the room then with the rest of the team right behind him. Earlier that day, during the ride to the apartment complex, he had prepared himself for the worst, so just seeing Reid alive was more than enough to bring a smile to his face. "God damn, pretty boy," Morgan says as he joins Garcia. "You have no idea how much you had me worried."

"Sorry," Reid says, quietly.

Garcia hushes him. "Don't even say that, baby cakes. You have nothing to be sorry for. We're just so, so happy you're back."

"Yeah," Emily adds. "How are you feeling?"

Reid shrugs, but says nothing.

"I brought you some clothes if you want to change," Garcia says. "I took as much stuff as I could, but Strauss people there, so I-."

"What?" Reid cuts in. "Why is she there?"

"They're looking for evidence," Morgan says.

"B-but didn't you guys already do that?

"Yes," Hotch says. "It was one of the first places we went. We didn't find anything, though, but it won't hurt to have some fresh eyes look around. He may have left something in there to use for later."

Reid's eyes widen with fear. "Left what?"

Hotch immediately regrets his choice of words. "They're looking for anything to track him," he says, trying to keep his tone calm.

"And they haven't yet."

The rest of the team members look at each other. There is a mutual feeling of guilt between them, despite their best efforts to catch the unsub. "No," Hotch says after a long pause. "At least not that we have heard of."

"You got nothing to worry about, kid," Morgan says. "No one's going to get past us."

Reid flinches at the nick name. He feels his captor's words, "Are you ready for some fun, kiddo?". They echo in his mind, stirring up all of the painful memories that he would rather forget.

"C-can you not call me that?" he asks, softly.

"What? Kid?"

Reid nods.

"I always call you that."

"I know. But… Please don't. Anyone."

"Yeah. Sure thing, Spence," Morgan says. Although he feels a little hurt by Reid's request, but he perfectly understand where he's coming from.

An feeling of awkwardness lingers in the room. JJ is finding herself struggling to look at Reid. The severity of the bruises are too much for her to take in right now. Even finding the right words to say are coming as a struggle. Rossi has remained quiet as well. There is a lot he would like to say to Spencer, but now is not the proper time. Not with so many other people around.

"Do you know when you can leave?" Emily asks.

Reid's eyes have gone blank. He stares ahead at nothing in particular, seemingly as he had not even heard Emily's question.

"Whenever he's ready," Hotch says. "He had to get some stitches, but the doctor thought his head injury wasn't severe enough to keep him over night, thankfully. She did ask that someone check on him in the middle of the night to make sure his is still responsive."

"So who's it going to be?" Morgan asks.

They look to Reid, waiting for an answer. It takes a moment before he realizes that he's the focus of everyone's attention. "What?"

"The doctor said that someone should stay with you tonight to monitor your head injury," Hotch says.

"A-at my place?" Despite his best efforts to calm himself, Reid's lower lip begins to tremble. The thought of returning to the apartment is terrifying. That man knows where he lives; he's been in there before without Reid even knowing. Surely he will be able to get in again. "I don't want to go back."

"You don't have to," Hot says, softly.

"But where am I going to go then?"

"Where ever you want, hunny," Garcia says as she continues to stroke Reid's hair.

Reid glances up at her. He doesn't know where he wants to go. All he knows, that in this moment, he does not want to be here or anywhere else.

"You can stay with me," Emily offers. "You can take my bed, and I'll crash on the couch."

"You don't have to do that," Reid mumbles, barely coherently.

"I have more than enough room," Rossi says. "For you and anyone else who wants to tag along." Rossi and Morgan briefly exchange looks. The group waits for Reid to reply, but he appears to be lost in thought again.

"If you don't feel comfortable with staying with any of us," Hotch beings to say, "I can call Strauss to get you a room at a hotel. I'm sure she would be more than willing to."

"By myself?"

"Only if you want to."

Reid looks at each of his teammates. Everyone appears so uncomfortable, almost as much as he's feeling. They won't want to stay with him any longer. "I guess if Strauss-."

"Reid," Morgan cuts in, "there is no way in hell I'm going to let you stay anywhere on your own."

"Where ever Reid feels best is where he is going to go," Hotch says. "But, Spencer, I do agree with Morgan. I think it would be best for someone to stay with you, and not just to monitor your head injury."

"Nobody has to stay with me," Reid says, quietly. "I'll be fine."

"Spence, no offense, but you don't look fine," Emily says. "Let one of us take care of you. At least for tonight."

Reid bites his bottom lip. "Okay."

"Why don't you stay with Dave tonight," Hotch says. "And we'll figure out more tomorrow. Would you be alright with that?"

After a moment of hesitation, Reid nods. He looks at Rossi and tries to smile, but can't bring himself to do it.

* * *

I am not a fan of people not playing by the rules. But I am less of a fan of losing the game, and right now I am not doing my best. I can admit when I get out of hand. I did, and I have paid the price for it. Had I been in my right state of mind, I would have killed the doctor before they got inside. All it would have taken was a few more solid whacks to the head and they'd be slipping all over his brains. It would have been even better if I did it right in front them; just stab him in the throat or something quick like that. I would have been shot, of course, but it would be worth it.

In the least, I made it out with only a few scratches. My talk with David Rossi has yet to come. It will happen, even if it is through another route. Getting to the doctor will be much more difficult now, but there are many ways you can inflict torture on a man. There are much more fun to be had before I get to where I actually want to be. Until then I will lie low and wait for the perfect moment to make myself known.

For a team of professional criminal profilers, supposedly the best in the business, they are terrible at finding people. I have stood in their presence on multiple occasions, yet none have noticed me. Not long after they arrived, I stopped by the hospital, claiming to be checking in on my ailing mother. It was partly true. My mother is indeed there, she has been for several weeks now, but I had little interest in seeing with her. In fact, our visit lasted only a few minutes long. The amount of time I spent in the waiting room was nearly an hour.

I took a seat pointing away from the agents. I busied myself with pretending to read a random magazine that I picked up as I listened in on their conversations. They don't know what to do with the doctor now. No one knows where he should go or how they will handle him. Dave, in his usual dramatic valor, offered to take him in. I had to smile at this. Of course he would, and of course he would be too foolish to realize the flaws in his plan. No house, no matter how large or closely guarded, can keep me out. But in all of his arrogance, he would be willing to risk his young co-workers life. So be it.

The profilers were still there by the time I left. I wasn't able to get a look at the doctor, not that it would have been a good idea. After visiting my mother, I returned to her home. This would be my safe house. The location is less convenient, but such is life. I will need the quiet to rethink my plans.

This isn't over yet.

* * *

**And it's not! Well, this chapter is but not the story as a whole. Thank you to those who continue to read and review! More action is in the future. Possibly revenge. Possibly death. Who knows! I do like to kill people off, I'll tell you that much. Thanks again!**


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